Albus Potter and the Stultifera Navis
by Lysander's Pen
Summary: Sequel to Albus Potter and the Sylvarum, read that first! The saga continues...
1. Cloaks and Dresses

**A/N: Welcome! Let me begin by saying if you have not read Albus Potter and the Sylvarum, please visit my page and read that story first, or else you will have very little idea of what is going on here.**

**Now then, I am pleased to present the second installment of my Next Gen saga, Albus Potter and the Stultifera Navis (Ship of Fools). I hope that all of you who enjoyed my first story will enjoy this one even more.**

**Disclaimer: Any characters, background, etc. that you recognize from Ms. Rowling's series and other Harry Potter sources belongs to her. Anything that originated in my previous story or is new in this chapter is mine.**

**And, without further ado...**

**C****hapter 1: Cloaks and Dresses**

Secrets are never as safe as their possessors like to think they are. Take, for instance, the house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, in London. Hidden by very powerful magical protections, it was believed to be a safe and secure location for the headquarters of a secret order dedicated to fighting evil. However, on one particular night, nearly twenty-three years to the day after the current owner, Harry Potter, first stepped into the house, a pair of figures, cloaked and hooded, made their way down the street towards the very same location. They walked with no uncertainty, not the slightest doubt, as to the significance of the location. In fact, they had been in the house many times before, more times than Harry himself had set foot there.

Through the windows of the surrounding houses, the figures were seen by people who were very different from them. And if those people had known who these two were, they would have seemed quite extraordinary and fascinating, in a rather horrifying way. As it happened, though, the witnesses were perfectly ignorant of whom the two were, and as they had by now seen countless dark figures walk up and down this street over the past two decades, these particular two held absolutely no fascination for them at all. Instead, the people simply saw them through the windows as part of a constant stream of ordinary sights, and no gaze lingered upon them for any unusual length of time.

The house did not appear until the two figures were directly in front of it. Opening the door, they stepped inside and confronted, with no fear whatsoever, the old man in strange clothing who stepped towards them menacingly.

"Severus Snape?"

"We didn't kill you." The voice that answered was low and raspy, but decidedly feminine.

The old man disintegrated, for he was not in fact a man but rather a replica of a man, made of dust.

"You're late." Behind the disintegrating phantom stood a woman, cloaked head-to-toe in white. Her features were hard, dominated by a scowl that was obviously a very frequent expression on her face. Her eyes were bright green, and stood out in sharp contrast from the pale face and blonde hair that surrounded them.

"Hardly," replied the raspy voice. Its possessor removed the hood from around her face, revealing features very different from those of the woman who confronted her: dark hair surrounded a tan face with dark eyes, and a relaxed, confident demeanor, dominated by a small smile. There was something decidedly animalistic about her, a savagery beneath the confidence, that showed in her eyes and in the way her hair curled wildly around her face.

"I asked you to be here fifteen minutes ago."

"Right, a whole fifteen minutes. Because, no doubt, so many calamities occurred in these fifteen minutes that we are missing out on."

"If Potter shows up..."

The dark-haired woman made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a gasp. "Let's not pretend to be ignorant, Sylvia. You and I both know where Potter is right now." Her eyes flashed, the concealed savagery becoming more apparent for a moment. "Besides, if Potter were to show up, we would simply kill him."

"The seer said it would not be so simple."

"You put too much faith in the words of a seer."

"She has not been wrong yet."

"She has not said anything significant to be wrong about."

"She was right about my brother-in-law."

This time, the dark-haired woman laughed outright. "Anyone could have been right about your brother-in-law. We all knew Roal was weak, and that his loyalty would be his undoing. We knew perfectly well that he would defend your son with his persistent lies. Speaking of which, are you going to repay the great debt which you owe him?"

Sylvia Zarin winced, unwilling to be reminded of her son's folly. "I haven't decided yet. Now tell me, is your task complete?"

The dark-haired woman gave a wide smile, which revealed unnaturally large and pointy teeth. "My task is never complete while pure humans walk beneath the moon."

"Spare me the Lycan rhetoric, Tanya."

"The small part of my task which you asked me to perform today is completed."

"Good. Were there any witnesses?"

"A few unfortunate hitchhikers that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They have been disposed of. Their bodies as well."

Sylvia grimaced, not wanting to think of the possible implications. Upon seeing her expression, however, Tanya frowned.

"Do not think me quite so savage. I am just as civilized as you are most of the time. Sometimes, more, I think."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow at this. The idea of being civilized did not seem to fit at all with these creatures. Turning her attention to the other one, who had thus far remained hooded and silent, she addressed him. "Volfir, what of the new cub that has appeared?"

The other finally removed his hood, revealing a face that appeared less human and more creature. Thin black hair ran down his dark cheeks, and his thick eyebrows hung low over a pair of yellow eyes. The long black hair that ran wild around his face looked like a mane, not so much that of a lion as that of a massive canine creature. "We know not where he came from, nor who turned him." The man's voice was very deep, and also somewhat raspy. "He is not keen to join our pack. We do not believe he can be trusted."

"Will you eliminate him?"

"Why? He is one of us, even if he will not join the pack. We will ignore him. Our enemies are the pure humans."

"Your enemies are most pure humans," Sylvia corrected him.

Though the man didn't move visibly, a sound like a low growl came from him. "Only while we have common goals. When those goals are complete, I expect you to run."

"When our goals are complete, I will be under the protection of the Dark Lord. And you, my friends, will be free to feast on whatever humans choose not to serve him. Now, both of you, leave."

Drawing their hoods up, the werewolves turned and left the house. Noting that they had left the door open, Sylvia sighed, and stepped over to close it.

"Aw, my poor dear, how terrible it must be to have to walk a few steps and close a door."

She turned to glare at her husband. As usual, she hadn't heard him come down the stairs. "Why don't you get out that wand of yours and be a gentleman?"

"I had just been about to, but you beat me to it."

"Sure."

Sebastian Zarin looked like a more handsome version of his brother. He was just as pale, but his features were rounder and more pleasant, except for the pointy ears that were signature of his family. His eyes were also jet-black, but he had acquired a pair of Muggle contact lenses that dulled their sharpness somewhat, so that they didn't stand out so hideously like Roal's did. His shoulder-length black hair was pulled back neatly in a pony-tail, a style which Sylvia never failed to adore, often to her annoyance.

His long-fingered hands were contained in sleek white gloves that stuck out from his dark robes. Each glove bore a gold emblem: a dagger wrapped in silk, with a large Z curving fluidly behind it. As he moved his hands, the emblem seemed to shimmer like the surface of a liquid. Sylvia's attention was always drawn by this strange effect.

"My darling Muggle wife." The voice completed the image perfectly. It was smooth and gentle, and the words seemed to flow out of him like water along a riverbed. He stepped towards her with elfin grace, his movements silent.

She halted him with her words. "We have business." Striding down the hall towards him, she stopped at the ugly troll-foot umbrella stand, which stood beside a moth-eaten velvet curtain that covered a portion of the wall. As Sebastian knelt before the curtain, she casually kicked aside the stand and then knelt beside him.

"It's about time." The cold, high-pitched voice of the Dark Lord emerged from the life-size portrait.

"The werewolves were late, as usual." There was no apology in Sylvia's voice, nor any fear in her expression as she stared up at the portrait.

"Is everything prepared?"

"It is," said Sebastian. "I met with the newcomer, and he reacted to everything I said exactly as I expected him to. There will be no interference from the Ministry."

"Excellent." The Dark Lord clenched his fists and smiled. "Soon, very soon, Harry Potter will at last be dead, and I will be free of this portrait."

Sebastian smiled. "Indeed, my lord."

After a moment, the Dark Lord relaxed his arms and leaned forward. "And what of my other request?"

"Lawrence is keeping an eye on him. We did not think you would want to see him before your return."

"You are quite right." There was laughter in the Dark Lord's voice now, and he was undoubtedly thinking of what was to come. "When I greet the traitor, I will be at full power, and adjusted to my new body. And then I will make him know greater fear and torment than he could ever have imagined, even from me. Twenty years he has lived a tranquil life, far longer than he should have. But no matter, soon he will pay for it all at my hand."

The Zarins waited while the Dark Lord played out the revenge in his mind, smiling widely. Only when he looked back at them did Sebastian speak. "My lord, there is one thing."

"What is it?"

Sticking a gloved hand into a pocket of his robes, Sebastian withdrew a wand that was not his own. "This is a gift from our son. He wished to present it to you himself on your return, but given... certain circumstances, I deemed it best if I present it to you on his behalf, before your return."

"In the hope that I will deal more graciously with him when I return? Is a wand meant to make up for nearly ruining my careful plans with pure foolishness?"

"This is not just any wand. This belonged to James Potter. It is the wand he got at Ollivander's. The one that chose him."

"James Potter? The younger one, I presume? I vaguely recall destroying the wand of the elder Potter."

"The younger one, yes. This is his true wand."

The Dark Lord smiled. "Excellent. Perhaps I should not deal so harshly with your son after all."

"He is learning, my lord." Sylvia did not usually use the title when speaking to the Dark Lord, but this was a rather delicate matter.

"He has much to learn yet." The Dark Lord leaned forward again, and Sylvia knew another vengeful plot was about to be unveiled. "I want Alexander to get to know his classmates better this year. One in particular. I am certain young Albus Potter will be most crushed by his father's death. He will need a close friend, one more understanding and reliable than his foolish blood-traitor relatives. Alexander will be there for Albus, will help the boy cope with his grief." The word "grief" sounded remarkably ironic coming from the Dark Lord's mouth, even as it was fitted with a tone of mock-sympathy.

"We will tell him," said Sebastian.

The Dark Lord stood straight again, looking exceedingly imposing in the large portrait. "I will tell him myself, once I have returned. You will prepare Alexander to meet me in person."

Sylvia didn't think her son was ready for this, but she allowed herself no visible reaction.

"And, once Alexander has gained the trust and friendship of young Albus Potter, once he believes him ready, he too shall meet me in person."

* * *

"Albus?"

Harry Potter glanced over his shoulder as his wife looked for their younger son, who had gone off somewhere with his cousin.

"We've got ourselves a couple of little adventurers. Sound familiar?" Harry turned and looked back at Ron, who was giving him a knowing smile.

"They can't possibly be getting into the same kind of trouble that we got into," said Hermione, getting up from the couch to help Ginny search for their children.

"You never know," Ron replied. Hermione cast her husband a glance over her shoulder.

"Not our little Rosie."

"Need I remind you she's your daughter?"

"Exactly. That's why she's perfect."

"Hey!"

Harry laughed. The conversations between his two best friends never changed, even after thirteen years of marriage.

A pair of squeals sounded from outside. Harry knew that that was Lily and Hugo racing around on their brooms. Lily had recently turned ten years old, meaning that the jinx that Harry had placed on her broom to keep it from going too high had finally worn off. He was a little worried, but knew she was a good flyer.

Catching Harry's glance toward the window, Ron said, "Those two are going to be great quidditch players. I see championships in their future."

"I never knew you were a seer."

"You don't have to be one to see that."

Harry nodded. "You just have to dream." Getting up from his couch, he walked over to the window and looked over to where the two young ones were playing, watched by James on his own broom. Harry was very grateful for his older son's vigilance. He would never let anything happen to his sister or his cousin.

Looking around, Harry also spotted the two missing children, sitting on the grass a little ways off and talking. "There they are."

Ginny and Hermione had also seen them, and were walking across the lawn. Harry turned to Ron. "It looks like the whole party is outside now."

"Then I suppose we should be, too," said Ron, getting up. They walked outside as their families gathered. Lily and Hugo flew down, landing with no difficulty, but neither with any semblance of grace. James followed.

"We should be going," said Hermione, looking at her watch. "You and Harry have to get ready for the party tonight."

Ginny nodded, glancing at her husband. "Yes, I suppose we do."

Ron addressed his children as well as his nephews and niece. "You all ready to go, then?"

The children all nodded.

"Alright then." Ron glanced up at Harry. "Have fun tonight."

"I'll try," Harry replied skeptically.

"You should," said Hermione. "It is your birthday, after all."

"Not my idea of how to spend a birthday. But it'll help with the investigation."

"And making connections for future investigations," added Ron. Kingsley had emphasized heavily the potential value of Harry's appearance at this event, since they expected that Mr. Black had invited a number of powerful wizards and witches from around Britain to attend his formal self-introduction to the community. It would be good for Harry to show up and show them all that he was still around and still fighting the good fight, and gain potential allies for the Auror Department.

Harry glanced down at his niece. "You make sure to have a better birthday evening than I will, Rosie."

Rose beamed at him, and nodded. Harry had enjoyed sharing his birthday with her over the past twelve years, partially because it relieved him of some of the excessive attention.

"We're going to have cake, right?" Lily asked, looking eagerly up at Ron.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You want more cake?"

The little girl nodded. "The first cake was for Dad. Now we need one for Rose." Hugo, Albus and Rose all agreed with enthusiasm.

Ginny and Hermione shared a long look.

"We'll see," said Ron. "Let's get going." He and Hermione proceeded to usher the five children around to the side of the house. There, leaning awkwardly against the white stone, was an old, dirty bicycle that was in ill repair. The children gathered around it.

Ron winked at Harry, then said, "On three. One, two..."

At three, the five children as well as Ron and Hermione all touched the bicycle and vanished, being carried by the portkey back to Ron and Hermione's house.

With a quick glance at the pair of watches on Harry's arm, Ginny turned and started back towards the door. "We haven't got much time."

"Assuming we arrive on time," said Harry, hoping that might not be such a necessity. A glance from his wife dashed those hopes.

Upstairs, she increased his dismay by going into their large bathroom to change, and locking the door behind her. With a sigh of capitulation, he changed into a set of dress robes. Upon hearing the door open behind him, he turned to see her standing in a green dress.

"That's better," she said, upon seeing him in his formal wear.

"If you say so. You look beautiful." There was no tone of awe or flirtation accompanying this statement. After nearly sixteen years of marriage, it was simply a statement, spoken customarily at the appropriate times.

"Thank you." She walked over to the bureau to gather some jewelry. It was then that he recognized the dress she was wearing.

"Didn't I tear that dress the last time you wore it?"

She smiled at the memory. "And the time before that as well. Good thing I'm a witch."

He smiled at this, then noticed that she was putting on a necklace. "Wait, Kingsley gave me something." Returning to the jeans he had been wearing earlier, he reached into the pocket and withdrew a silver necklace with a small amulet hanging from it. "He said you should wear this tonight."

She frowned, surprised. "Well... that's... nice of him."

"It's charmed to be able to detect Polyjuice Potion," Harry explained. None of Kingsley's gifts were ever purely aesthetic. "The amulet will grow cold if there's someone disguised by the potion nearby."

"Is it really necessary tonight?"

"Kingsley believes so. There will be a lot of recognizable faces at this party, and many people who could easily be emulated." Harry agreed with the precaution.

Ginny sighed. "Alright." Harry stepped forward and placed the necklace around her neck, letting his arms rest on her shoulders as he clasped it.

"So, is there a particular reason why you are wearing this dress tonight?"

Her smile returned. "Of course." Then she leaned forward and kissed him. "Happy birthday."

"Do we really have to be on time for this?"

"Yes."

* * *

"I hate dresses," Michaela muttered, frowning at the image of herself in the mirror. In the reflection, she caught her twin rolling his eyes, and punched him.

"I think you look beautiful." Her best friend, Sarah, came up on her other side. Michaela didn't agree, but Sarah certainly looked beautiful in her blue dress.

Looking back at herself, Michaela frowned again at her dress. "I hate wearing black. Dad likes it. He says it's the family color."

"It kind of is," said Marcus. He was also in black, though he at least had some white and gray in his suit, and a red tie.

"Then I should run away and get adopted by a family named Blue."

Sarah laughed at this. "If you want, I can lend you this dress sometime."

Michaela looked up at her friend's face in surprise. "It would be too long on me."

Sarah shrugged. "I'm a witch, remember? I can shorten it magically." She looked Michaela up and down, and a sly grin crossed her face. "And increase the width around the bust, of course."

Michaela felt herself go red in the face. "Hey!" She swatted at the other girl.

"Sarah," said Marcus, his voice a little strained, "warn me next time you're going to say something like that, so I can leave the room first."

"You've heard worse," said Michaela, though her blush was fading only slowly.

"Don't remind me."

Finally, Michaela stopped frowning at her reflection, and walked over to the large, semi-circular window in her room. The Sun had set, and the sky was passing rapidly through various shades of indigo. Below, the green earth sloped downwards away from the house, towards a shadowy forest. "I'm glad we're leaving tomorrow."

Sarah had invited them to spend the month of August at her house before they returned to school. Michaela was eager to go, and she had a feeling Marcus was, too, though he was far less vocal about it.

Sarah stepped up beside her, less interested in the darkening landscape outside than in sticking close to her friend in this large house. Even in Michaela's room, which was brightly lit and more comfortable than the other rooms in the house, she still felt a little uncomfortable. Michaela could sense it in her friend's expressions and motions.

"It'll be nice to get away from here," Marcus agreed, joining them by the window. "A less business-y environment, a little more color."

"Actually, Marcus, I think the business-y environment is exactly where you should be." All three turned at the deep voice that came from the open doorway. The large man that stood there looked every bit as regal as a king, right down to the fancy gold-trimmed suit that he was wearing. His thick black hair and mustache were carefully groomed, and even his thick eyebrows looked neater than normal.

Michaela stared at her father. "Are we representing the royal house of New York now?"

Her father frowned at the sarcastic remark. As he stepped into the room, another man appeared beside him. Michaela recognized the other as Michael Corner, her father's business partner, who had invited them over for dinner on the last night of Christmas Break.

"Mr. Corner, how do you do?" Marcus asked politely. Michaela took some satisfaction from the fact that he had chosen to greet the other man rather than their father.

"Fine, thank you, Marcus." Standing next to their father, Mr. Corner looked tiny, and his voice sounded quite weak.

"Marcus," said their father, "Mr. Corner has graciously offered to have you spend a few weeks at his house, working for him and learning the business."

Michaela felt her brother tense beside her. "What?"

"You will be returning to Mr. Corner's house with him tonight after the party, and live there for a few weeks. You will help him run the business, and learn in the process."

"If you so choose," added Mr. Corner. Michaela saw her father's expression harden slightly, and she knew that Marcus did not really have a choice.

Marcus knew that as well. "That sounds great, Mr. Corner. I would love to help you."

Mr. Corner smiled, and their father nodded. "Excellent. Well, your mother and I expect you both downstairs now. The guests will be beginning to arrive." He turned, smoothing imaginary creases in his suit. Then he spoke slightly less loudly, and it appeared that he was speaking to himself. "It is time for Britain to learn my name."


	2. The Party, Part 1

**A/N: Hey all! So I had really hoped it wouldn't be too soon into this story that I had to start apologizing for taking so long to post new chapters, but October was an insane month, and November is going to be crazy as well. A freak hurricane didn't help matters much either.**

**Anyway, I hope this will help some of my readers stateside take their minds off all of the crazyness unraveling tonight as we vote on the future of our country. Not much good panicking before the results are in. To all my readers outside the States, hope you're enjoying the entertainment.**

**Finally, to all my readers in the Tristate Area who still don't have power back, here's hoping that you are staying warm and safe. My thoughts and prayers are with you.**

**Now, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: What you recognize as Ms. Rowling's is Ms. Rowling's.**

**Chapter 2: The Party, Part 1**

When Harry and Ginny landed at the address they had been given, they found a single large manor upon a hill. The house was so lit up in the surrounding night that it seemed to glow. Around them, wizards and witches were appearing by various magical methods. Several apparated, others appeared by portkeys that had no doubt been placed at strategic locations around Britain. A stream of people stepped out of a vanishing cabinet that was carefully guarded, and Harry assumed the other end was either in Diagon Alley or within the Ministry.

Harry and Ginny had chosen to arrive by broom, their favorite method of travel. Both were very fast flyers, having both at one point in time been seekers for elite quidditch teams. A few others had chosen to fly here as well.

A large group was coalescing around the vanishing cabinet, forming a stream of people walking up towards the house, where a large black tent stood in front of the entrance. Harry and Ginny chose to join the group, rather than walk on their own and potentially draw attention.

"Is that..." Harry looked at his wife when she spoke, then followed her gaze up to where, it appeared, a cat was being carried by a large bird. The bird dropped the cat from about ten feet above the ground, and the cat landed easily. Harry recognized the cat immediately.

Headmistress McGonagall watched the bird land, then transformed into her normal form. The bird transformed into a tall wizard.

"Headmistress," Ginny called.

She turned and smiled at them, but stayed put as the wizard approached her. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it is good to see you both."

"Likewise," said Ginny. By now they had reached her, as had the wizard.

"This is Earl Strumthort." The Headmistress gestured to her companion, who immediately made to shake Harry's hand. Up close, he looked even taller than he had before, and his long nose and pointy chin exaggerated the effect to almost comical proportions. At the same time, however, his dark-gray hair and sharp gray-eyed gaze conveyed wisdom, and gave him the look of a man who commanded respect.

"It is good to meet you, Mr. Potter." He had a faint accent that Harry couldn't place.

"You too, Mr. Strumthort."

The Headmistress looked up towards the house, and the line of people walking up to it. "This is going to be a very large party."

Harry nodded, surprised that Mr. Black had received so many guests for his introductory party. The businessman was previously unknown in the country, and yet already he had managed to attract the attention of a vast mix of Britain's wizarding population.

Studying the group, he recognized several Ministry officials, as well as other people he had met on random occasions.

"Shall we?" said the Headmistress. She held out her arm, and Mr. Strumthort slipped it through his. Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance.

The four joined the group. Up at the top of the line, in front of the massive, arching entrance to the house, a pair of officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement stood inside the black security tent, checking names off of a long piece of parchment that curled around the hand of one and into the hand of the other and then downwards, nearly reaching the ground. This would indeed be a very large party.

They were nearly to the entrance when the line paused. Harry glanced up front to see the officials arguing with a witch who had an owl perched on her shoulder.

"We're sorry, Madam, but there are no creatures allowed in."

"Is that who I think it is?" said Harry.

The Headmistress looked. "Well, I don't know who you think she is, Mr. Potter, but that is Madam Scamander."

Of course it was. Harry recognized Luna's highly-eccentric mother-in-law.

"Harold is not a creature," Madam Scamander protested. Harry raised his eyebrows at the name. "Tell them, Harold."

The owl hooted, mimicking his owner's indignation.

"See?"

The officials exchanged a glance.

"Bess!" Harry glanced back to see Xenophilius Lovegood come scurrying up to the front of the line. His hair was whiter and longer than it had been last time Harry saw him, and a bit of white hair was beginning to form around the edges of his chin into a wispy beard.

"Xenophilius, tell them to let Harold in!"

"I'll take care of Harold, Bess."

She gave him a funny look, then conceded. "Fine. Go to Xenophilius, Harold."

Harold gave a hoot and hopped off her shoulder onto the ground, then started walking on his two skinny legs away from the pair of them.

"Harold!"

"It doesn't fly, Madam?" asked one of the officials.

"I told you it isn't a creature!"

Xenophilius bent down and scooped the bird up off the ground.

"You may enter now, Madam."

"You take care now, Harold. I'll be back before you know it." With that, she stepped between the officials and entered the house, and the line proceeded once more.

Xenophilius glanced uncertainly at the owl he now held. "Er, is there anywhere I can put this owl?" One of the officials frowned, then conjured a cage on the ground next to Xenophilius' feet. Xenophilius knelt down and placed the owl in the cage. "Sorry about this, Harold." The bird let out no complaint, and Xenophilius returned to his place in the line.

Finally, they arrived at the tent. "Good evening, Headmistress," said one of the officials as he scanned the list. "We were told you were bringing a companion."

"Yes, indeed," she replied. "This is Mr. Strumthort."

The other official spoke up, staring at the tall man. "Mr. Strumthort, I don't suppose you would mind submitting to a quick screening to confirm your identity and intentions?"

Mr. Strumthort smiled. "Not at all. I'm surprised you aren't screening everyone as they arrive, regardless of whether they are known or not."

"Not to worry, Sir, we have plenty of measures prepared to detect any form of deception. Mr. Marteus is overseeing them himself."

The Headmistress perked up visibly. "Mr. Marteus is here?"

"Certainly, Madam. A party this large, with this many important people, of course he had to come. Far too costly to the wizarding community if something happened here."

Harry knew that Francis Marteus had been invited in Kingsley's stead as the face of law enforcement in wizarding Britain. He also knew that Mr. Marteus was a large part of why communication between the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and its elite office, the Auror Department, was so poor these days.

The special screening for Mr. Strumthort consisted of several pointed questions under veritaserum along with various items to make sure he had no harmful items with him (apart from his wand). Once they had triple-checked to make sure he was registered as an animagus (he had only recently registered with the British Ministry), he was finally allowed to enter.

"Harry Potter, it's good to see you," said one of the officials, with no apparent sincerity, as Harry and Ginny stepped up to be admitted.

"Likewise," said Harry, with perhaps a bit of sincerity. At least he knew the party was secure.

Once they were finally within the crowded room, Harry scanned the sea of faces, recognizing many, though not most, of them. It occurred to him that he had actually spoken to very few of these people before.

He spotted Mr. Black chatting with Michael Corner and several others on a raised platform in the back of the room. Elsewhere, Harry caught sight of Ramicus Bendleby, the Minister of Magic, standing with several of his deputies and undersecretaries.

The Headmistress was already mingling with several elderly-looking witches and wizards. Ginny began a conversation with a wizard whom Harry recognized as a member of the Chudley Cannons, and he soon managed to join in the conversation himself. He was, however, very careful about what he said, considering the Cannons still had not had a winning season in now more than a century (to Ron's eternal dismay), and had just two days earlier suffered yet another dramatic defeat at the hands of Ginny's former team, the Holyhead Harpies.

As they proceeded through the crowd, Harry was greeted by nods from several guests. Many turned to greet him verbally and shake his hand, though the frequency of such greetings at these events had reduced steadily as more and more years passed since his conquest of Voldemort. Harry didn't mind that at all. While to many, especially youngsters, he was still very much a hero, at a party of elites like this, he was just another well-known wizard. He decidedly preferred being just one among many.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned to find himself face-to-face with a man in a sleek white Muggle suit, with white gloves that each bore a gold emblem of a clothed dagger and a large Z. "Hello."

"I'm Sebastian Zarin," said the man, sticking out a gloved hand. Harry recognized the surname immediately.

Beside him appeared a woman in a white dress, with blonde hair and bright green eyes that caught Harry's attention immediately. He recognized those eyes better than any other pair he knew of, even Ginny's. They were the same as his own.

"This is my wife, Sylvia," said Zarin.

"Harry Potter, and this is Ginny. Nice to meet you both." He shook Zarin's hand, and the glove felt warm and not entirely solid.

Before any more could be said, the sound of metal clinking against glass echoed around the room. All eyes turned towards the raised platform, where Mr. Black was now surveying his guests, flanked on either side by Michael and a tall, dignified-looking woman in a black dress.

Mr. Black's deep voice needed no form of magical amplification to carry to every corner of the room. "Welcome, one and all. I am Peter Black, and it is my greatest pleasure to meet all of you."

* * *

"Viktor!"

The annoyance was immediate, instinctive. Viktor Krum slowed down his broom, watching as the snitch disappeared once more into the night sky.

Looking down, he saw Edgar standing far below on the grass. "What is it?"

"You have to come now!" Edgar shouted. High as he was, Viktor could barely hear the words.

"Another attack?"

Edgar hesitated. "Sort of."

The lack of answer caught Viktor's attention, and he quickly descended. "What has happened?"

"Well, there's been another attack," said Edgar. At Viktor's glance, he quickly continued. "But there's more. We have a memory, and you are going to want to see it."

Viktor raised his eyebrows. "Where was it?" While he did still play quidditch for the Bulgarian National Team, Viktor had also taken up working part-time for the new European Commission of Security, an international organization established by various wizarding communities, mostly in Eastern Europe. The organization was still struggling to get off the ground, and famous faces like Viktor's helped increase its support. Besides, Viktor enjoyed doing more than just playing quidditch and being famous. He liked helping people.

"Just outside Helsinki."

Viktor quickly grabbed hold of Edgar and apparated them to a small square of grass surrounded by stone walls. Around them, the sprawling fortress of Suomenlinna straddled a group of islands off the coast of the Finnish capital, and the tourists and other Muggles beyond the walls were completely oblivious to their presence.

Approaching the eastern wall of the small square, Viktor drew his wand and traced it along a precise route across the wall. As he pulled his wand away, a gaping hole appeared, and he stepped through, followed hastily by Edgar.

Down a long flight of stairs, they emerged in a large, cavernous room with bare, stone walls and a large, circular black table. Many of the chairs around the table were occupied by various wizards and witches talking anxiously among themselves.

A tall, slender woman with dark hair turned to him. "Ah, at last. Welcome, Viktor," she said in Russian.

"Olga, what has happened?" Viktor's Russian was imperfect, though better than his English. He, along with many of the other members of the new organization, was unhappy about Russian being chosen as the common operating language, but since Russia was better represented here than any other country, there was no more logical alternative. It reminded Viktor of Durmstrang, where many conversations between students had been in Russian.

Olga held up her wand and muttered a few words, and the wand began to glow. She placed it on the table as it flattened out and expanded, edges curving out into a bowl shape.

Viktor approached what now appeared to be a shallow, oblong pensieve as Olga poured a memory into it. Lowering his head and immersing himself in the memory, he watched as the events played out before his eyes, and his anxiousness grew.

* * *

Harry and Ginny were surprised to find place-cards at the tables, with seating assigned. Harry wondered what logic had gone into the assignments, particularly as he found himself and Ginny at a table with Sebastian and Sylvia Zarin, whom he had only just met, an elderly witch who appeared to be only half-conscious of what was occurring around her, another couple whom he had never met before, and Madam Scamander, who was taking great interest in the flowers at the center of the table. As he sat down, the elderly witch turned and stared at him.

"Er, hi."

"Hello." That was all he got as a response. He cast a glance at Sebastian Zarin as he sat down on the other side of the witch.

"So, Mrs. Potter," Sylvia Zarin began. She waited for Ginny's automatic response, "Just Ginny, please," before continuing. "You're involved with quidditch."

"Yes," Ginny replied. "I used to play professionally, now I write about it."

"I see," said Mrs. Zarin. It was quite clear from her expression that she had never read any of Ginny's articles, nor intended to.

"And what do each of you do?" Harry asked. As an auror, he was more fond of being the one asking the questions than of being the one receiving them.

"Potions are my trade," Sebastian Zarin replied. Harry expected this, knowing that this man was the brother of Roal Zarin, the arrested former-Potions Master of Hogwarts.

"Your trade?" Harry pressed.

"Well, yes. I'm quite good at brewing them, and I work with people who are good at selling them."

"I see. Do you have any specialties? A particular type of potion that you're exceptionally talented at brewing?" Harry was doing his very best to feign genuine interest, but in reality his auror sense had kicked in, and he felt determined to find out about the brother of the convicted murderer of a Hogwarts student.

The look on Zarin's face told him that he was doing a very poor job of hiding the fact that this was an interrogation. "I'm very good at a variety of potions. I'll be sure to send you a free sample."

Knowing he was not going to get anything of value here, Harry quickly switched topics, looking at Mrs. Zarin. For a moment, he found himself transfixed once more by the too-familiar eyes. "And you, Mrs. Zarin?"

"Sylvia, please," she replied, just as predictably as Ginny had. "I'm an accountant."

Ginny frowned. "A... what?" She glanced uncertainly at Harry. Harry recognized the Muggle profession.

"Sylvia is a Muggle," said Sebastian. His tone was level, not designed to seek any sort of emotion in response. He knew, clearly, that Harry and Ginny would be quite surprised to meet a Muggle at this party. Beyond that, however, the reactions would be entirely original.

Ginny, for her part, seemed to accept the surprise more quickly than Harry. "Really? Well, you seem quite accustomed to our world. You had me fooled."

"I've been part of your world for quite a while now," the Muggle replied, her tone just as level as her husband's. "Forgive me, however, for still not knowing all that much about quidditch. I've never met someone who plays, or played, before."

"Really?" said Harry, glancing at her husband. Handsome though he was, he didn't quite seem the athletic type, but rather more of an intellectual.

No longer quite sure of what to say to the Muggle or her husband, Ginny glanced at Harry, and Harry returned the glance with equal uncertainty. Before an awkward lull could fall over the conversation, however, Sebastian spoke up.

"Well, I, for one, am curious about the wine." He glanced over towards a long table at the far end of the room, where various drinks and platters had been arranged to be sampled by the guests. "Would anyone like anything?"

"Certainly," Harry replied. He felt more at ease with the notion of being relieved of the man's presence and the need for conversation for the minute, at least, that it would take him to walk over to the long table, retrieve the goblets of wine, and walk back.

"Yes, please," said Ginny. "Though preferably white, if they have, rather than red."

Sylvia also requested a goblet, and it occurred to Harry only after Sebastian Zarin had departed to wonder when was the last time he had had wine at a wizarding event. It was a truly American custom, as the drinks at wizarding events in Britain tended to be very distinct from those of the Muggles. Since it had been so long since he had tasted wine, however, he found himself more eager to sample some here.

He was even surprised that Ginny remembered wine well enough to have a preference between white and red. He had taken her to Muggle restaurants before, but not in a while. He made a mental note to take her to another one soon.

Abruptly, Madam Scamander rose from her seat at the table, and, pushing her chair aside rather roughly, turned and walked intently off into the crowd that was still milling about between the tables. The still-unknown couple on the far side of the table were engrossed in their own hushed conversation, while the elderly witch who sat between Harry and Sebastian continued to stare silently in random directions.

Sebastian returned, skillfully carrying four goblets, though Harry guessed there was some magic involved in the way he balanced the large goblets on his long, gloved fingers. Passing the goblets first to his wife and then to Harry and Ginny, he sat down and raised his own. "To Mr. Black. May he have great success in our beloved community."

Harry cheered half-heartedly, then brought the goblet towards his lips. As he did so, however, he felt a strong influence in his mind against the action. He recognized the spell at once, and knew of only two people alive who used it. Sure enough, as he looked up, he saw the Headmistress moving quickly towards him through the crowd.

As he set his goblet down, he noted out of the corner of his eye that Ginny had done the same, also without taking a drink. What was wrong?

"Mr. Potter, may I have a word with you please?" the Headmistress asked. The sternness of her tone reminded him of when she had been his professor at Hogwarts.

"Certainly." Harry rose from his seat. Just before he and the Headmistress disappeared into the crowd, she cast one more glance at Ginny.

"Excuse me, please," said Ginny, casting an apologetic glance at the Zarins, who looked rather put off by the sudden turn of events. Rising, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Harry followed the Headmistress until they reached the far end of the room. Behind the long table of samples were a set of doors that led outside the house, to a large balcony that overlooked the sloping hill down to a shadowy forest.

The Headmistress didn't stop until she reached the railing of the balcony, and she remained facing outwards towards the forest. "Communication within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement really is at an all-time low, isn't it?"

Harry turned sideways to glance back over the crowd, watching for any eyes looking their way. "What do you mean?"

"The Auror Department was not informed of the manner in which Roal Zarin is accused of having murdered Jonas Zabini."

The way she said "accused" told Harry quite clearly that she knew otherwise, and caught his full attention. "No, we weren't."

She shook her head sadly. "Well, what you all must know is that the members of the Zarin family have a—"

A loud noise cut her off. Turning once more, Harry saw Francis Marteus standing just outside the crowd of people, watching them.

"Headmistress, it is good to see you." He approached slowly.

"Likewise," the Headmistress replied curtly.

"Mr. Potter, I was wondering if I might have a word."

Harry glanced quickly at the Headmistress before replying. "Very well."

The Headmistress nodded with a grim expression. "Excuse me, please." As she disappeared once more behind the veil of strangers, Harry gave the Deputy Chief of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement his full attention.

Bothering with neither formalities nor niceties, if there was any true difference between the two where this man was concerned, Mr. Marteus cut right to the chase. "I am quite certain my office sent you in full the report in question."

In fact, the report that Kingsley had received from Marteus's office had been quite bare-bones, but Harry kept this sentiment to himself.

Marteus continued. "Organization within the Auror Department is clearly failing. If your office is overtaxed, I can certainly send fewer tasks your way and give more attention to other units."

"We're not overtaxed," said Harry. In fact, quite the opposite. "I recall no mention of the manner in which Roal Zarin carried out the murder of Jonas Zabini in that report."

"A secretary in the Auror office clearly misplaced that section, then."

Harry doubted that. "Well, then how did Roal Zarin kill Jonas Zabini?"

Marteus pursed his lips, looking around at the crowd. "This is not the place to discuss such a matter. I will see to it that another copy of the report—a full copy—is sent to the Auror Department. And I hope your office will not fail again."

Harry had a strong feeling that this second report would never arrive, but nevertheless he thanked the Deputy Chief. Then, with a curt farewell, he set off into the crowd, looking for the Headmistress. Their conversation needed to be finished, somewhere it would not be overheard.


	3. The Party, Part 2

**A/N: Hey all. Once again, it has been a long time, and once again I am very sorry. I will get another up over the holidays, probably sooner than we will see a budget deal in Congress.**

**After two chapters that were heavy on Harry's POV, I pulled this chapter away from Harry entirely, and instead focused mainly on Ginny and Ron. They both had very small roles in my first story, but they are also interesting characters and deserve some attention. ****It was tough to write, but I think it came out alright.**

**I hope you all enjoy, and best of luck on finals!**

**Disclaimer: Rowling's characters belong to her, I'm just putting words in their mouths and thoughts in their minds. My new characters belong to me, as well as the plot.**

**Chapter 3: The Party, Part 2**

Michaela continued to stare at the place where Harry Potter had disappeared into the crowd. She had been standing with Sarah and Marcus near the corner of the large balcony, out of earshot but within sight of the business-y conversations he had seemed to be having with the Headmistress and the big, bald guy.

As soon as she had seen him, she had been reminded of James Potter, and what was by now a very familiar anger had risen within her.

"Michaela." Marcus waved his hand in front of her face.

She glared at him. "What?"

"You were staring at Harry Potter."

"Correction," said Sarah through a giggle, "she was staring at James Potter's father."

"Same person," said Marcus, not catching the significance of Sarah's way of saying it. Obviously, though, he knew what she was thinking, as he was thinking it as well.

Michaela rolled her eyes. "Alright, enough."

"You've got it so bad," said Sarah, using an expression that she had learned from Michaela herself.

"I do not!"

"Sure you do," said Marcus. "For all I know, you have a secret shrine to him in your closet."

Sarah frowned. "We saw her closet just today. There was no shrine. That would be quite excessive."

"He's referring to an old American children's cartoon," Michaela explained. "And for that he gets this." She took a swing at her brother, connecting with his shoulder. He let out a yelp, and a few nearby guests turned to look at him inquisitively.

"Be careful, Michaela," Sarah warned, looking apologetically at the guests. "You have many guests here."

"Correction, my father has many guests here. I'm going upstairs." With that, she stomped off into the throng of people.

* * *

"There, all finished." Rose watched as her little cousin turned immediately to look in the mirror, examining her work.

"Thank you!" Lily exclaimed, admiring her new braids.

"You're welcome," Rose replied, admiring her cousin's hair. "I wish I had your hair."

Lily turned to her. "My hair? But your hair is beautiful!"

"Is it? Thank you. But I like yours better."

"But everyone has red hair," said Lily, now frowning into the mirror. "Me, James, Mom, Uncle Ron, and all of their brothers. And Hugo, and Lucy, and Fred..." She trailed off, wondering if she had forgotten any of their cousins.

"And Lewis," Rose added.

"Oh, right, Lewis too!"

Rose chuckled at her cousin. "Lily, how many people do you know outside our family?"

"Lots!"

"And how many of them have red hair?"

Lily frowned, trying to think of someone.

"And how many of them have brown hair?"

Lily looked up apologetically at her cousin. "But your hair is still beautiful!" she insisted.

"I was supposed to have red hair," said Rose. "Dad was certain I would have red hair. That's why he named me Rose."

"Rose is a nice name, even if it doesn't match your hair."

Rose agreed. And, she had to admit, she thought it would be rather cheesy if her name matched her hair. Still, red hair just looked better than brown hair did.

Through the open door, a knocking sound resonated up the stairs. Stepping out of Rose's room, the girls bounded down the stairs to see who the late-night visitor was.

"Hermione, can you get that?"

Rose's mom stepped out of the library and went to the door, frowning at them as she passed. "You girls aren't in bed yet?" As she waved her hand across the back of the door, a small window appeared, revealing the person outside. Rose's mom quickly opened the door. "Victoire?"

"Hi, Aunt Hermione."

Albus and James came down the stairs behind Rose and Lily, looking around them at the doorway. Victoire greeted them all as she entered the house.

"Are you okay?" Rose's mom asked, surprised by the hour of the visit.

Victoire hesitated, then nodded. "Is Uncle Harry here?"

"Harry? No."

Victoire hesitated once more. "Okay. I need to speak with him."

Rose's dad appeared from the living room. "Hello there, Victoire. Everything alright?"

Victoire nodded once more. "Yes. I just need to speak to Uncle Harry. I'll come by his office."

Rose saw her dad grimace. "I think I know what this is about. Care to step in here with me for a minute?" he asked, gesturing behind himself into the living room.

Victoire hesitated even longer this time. "Okay." Stepping past the rest of the family, she followed Rose's dad into the living room. The door shut behind them.

"I'll bet anything it's about Teddy," said James. "She's been like this all summer. Dad says Teddy is still away on that mission."

Rose studied her mom's face, knowing she knew something. But she wasn't going to tell them.

Predictably, Rose's mom said that they should all be going to bed.

Rose exchanged a glance with Albus and James. They all knew the adults wouldn't tell them anything. Turning, they went back up to the rooms.

* * *

Ginny glanced around at the people as she passed between them, looking for anyone she recognized. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

She knew the Headmistress had been responsible for the mind-trick at the table, and though she didn't know why, she trusted the reason was a good one. Still, she was curious as to what exactly was going on here.

"Mrs. Potter." Turning, she found Sebastian Zarin standing behind her, holding a pair of goblets in his gloved hands. "You left your drink at the table." He held it out to her, and she took it, though she decided she wouldn't drink.

"Mrs. Potter." She turned once more, and this time found herself face-to-face with Mr. Black.

"Er... hello," said Ginny. She hadn't actually prepared herself to meet the host, knowing she would be one guest among very many at the party. At the very least, she had expected Harry to be the one receiving the attention of anyone important that greeted them, as was always the case.

He held out his hand towards her. "I'm Peter Black. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She shook his hand tentatively. "You too." She struggled for something to say that wasn't too cliche, but finally settled for "This is a lovely party."

He gave a thoughtful smile, which twisted his thick mustache to an awkward angle. "It is, isn't it? I wasn't quite sure what to expect myself."

"It turned out very well," said Mr. Zarin.

Mr. Black turned his head sharply, as though he hadn't noticed Mr. Zarin before. "Mr. Zarin, it's good to see you. Thanks again for your help."

"Anytime," Mr. Zarin replied with a smile.

"And how is Sylvia?"

"Very well. She's around here somewhere."

"I'm here." Mrs. Zarin appeared from behind her husband. "It is good to see you again, Peter."

"You too, Sylvia, as always."

Ginny was surprised by the apparent familiarity between the British Muggle and the American wizard.

Before this twist could advance, however, another important presence made itself known. "Mr. Black, this is quite an event." Ginny recognized the voice immediately, and spun around as the Minister of Magic strode up beside her.

"Thank you, Minister."

Unlike Mr. Black, the Minister noticed Mr. Zarin immediately. "Sebastian, how are you? It is good to see you."

"Fine, thank you. It is good to see you, too, Minister, as always."

Ginny couldn't tell whether or not the Minister was being sincere, but she doubted that Mr. Zarin was. She wasn't sure anyone genuinely enjoyed being around the Minister. She had met him a few times, though always when he had some matter to discuss with Harry.

"Ah, and Mrs. Potter. How are you, my dear? Where is your husband?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Minister. Harry's around here somewhere." Unfortunately, he did not turn up immediately after this was said, as Mrs. Zarin had.

She was well out of her own league now. This was Harry's circle, the politicians and elite businessmen and... whatever the Zarins were. But she enjoyed this, being surrounded by such power. By now it shocked her less than it used to, though every now and then she would run into a situation where she didn't know what to say. Even with Harry's name, she was still a Weasley, and she hadn't been raised to talk to these people. She had come from an entirely different social circle in wizarding Britain.

As a part of Harry's life, she had adopted this as her own as well. She couldn't captivate people like Harry could, nor alter the course of a conversation effortlessly like Hermione. They were the ones meant for this life. But she could still enjoy it. She enjoyed observing it and participating in it. She wore dresses and jewelry that were often bought by him, and she met his associates, met the people who admired him, the politicians who sought his support, the businessmen and journalists who made money simply by having his name on a sheet of paper.

Frankly, she enjoyed it more than he did.

The present conversation was flying over her head, but it mattered little.

"You don't like the wine, Mrs. Potter?" asked Mr. Black, and Ginny realized she was still holding the full goblet of wine that she had decided not to drink.

"Oh no... it's delicious... I'm just... excuse me." She quickly backed out of the conversation and retreated into the crowd. She was determined not to drink the wine until she knew why the Headmistress had stopped her before, but she didn't want to leave it just lying around somewhere either, lest someone else should pick it up and drink it.

Before she could decide what to do with it, however, she was distracted by a sudden sensation of cold against her chest. The amulet that Harry had given her suddenly felt like ice.

That meant there was Polyjuice Potion nearby.

* * *

"We'll find him, Victoire. I promise you we will." Ron watched her expressions as he said this.

"I'm going to help, whether you want me to or not."

"Victoire, you have a life that you need to get started. This is an important year for you." She had just graduated Hogwarts, and now was putting off finding a job in order to find Teddy. The aurors were already well aware of Teddy's situation, and were doing everything they could to find him.

"Then let me become an auror."

Ron felt his mouth fall open, but didn't bother to do anything to fix it. "Well, this is new."

"This is what's important to me."

"Victoire..."

"No! I'm doing this!"

It was clearly no use arguing with her. "Alright, you'll help us find him."

"And there are two boys who've promised to help me."

Ron frowned at this. "In return for what?"

"Let's just say they owe me."

"Are they trustworthy?"

"Yes."

Ron sighed. Kingsley was going to kill him, if Harry didn't first. But perhaps Victoire could be of help. "Alright. Come in on Thursday to meet Kingsley. Bring your friends."

"Why not tomorrow?"

"Because I need to brief him first. What are your friends' names?"

"Theo and Kevin."

"Do they have last names?"

"Leonus and Eigin."

"Theo Leonus and Kevin Eigin? Alright." Ron didn't think this conversation could be pursued any further tonight. He needed to speak with Kingsley. And Harry.

He stood, and after a second, so did she. "Is there anything else? You want a drink or something?"

"No, thank you." She led the way out of the living room. Hermione had returned to the library, but she came out when she heard the living room door open. Ron exchanged a glance with her, let her know everything was okay.

"Thank you," said Victoire, opening the door herself and stepping out.

"Is there anything else you need?" Hermione asked. "Anything at all?"

"No, thank you. See you Thursday, Uncle Ron.

Ron nodded to her.

She apparated away, and Hermione shut the door before looking inquisitively at Ron.

"She wants to help find Teddy."

"That's to be expected."

"I know. It's rather dangerous, though."

"Dangerous? Need I remind you what we faced when we were younger than she is? Besides, you know you can't talk her out of it." Hermione was already back in the library and heading towards her table. Ron followed her in.

"It's not just that, though. This is an important time for her."

"It is indeed, but Teddy is also very important to her."

"So you're in favor of letting her help, then."

Hermione nodded, sitting down and picking up her book.

"Two of her friends promised to help as well. Apparently they owe her."

Hermione looked up at this. "Really? Anyone you've heard of before?"

"I think Theo Leonus was the Head Boy last year."

Hermione nodded. "He was. I think he can be trusted. Who's the other one?"

"Kevin Eigin. I've never heard of him before."

"Eigin? That name sounds familiar." Hermione put her book back down on the table and got up, looking up at the shelves of books around her and trying to remember where she had seen that name before. Ron waited, but after several seconds, she looked at him. "I'll look for it."

"Okay." He knew that was his cue to leave, but instead he walked towards her. As he reached her, he looked her up and down. "You really are brilliant."

"Ron..."

He brought his hands up to her waist, feeling the smooth curves. "So brilliant."

"Ron, I want to read more."

"I know you do."

"I wish there were more I could do for Victoire."

"I'm sure you'll think of more to do."

"Ron!" She flicked his forehead, none too gently, and he took a step backwards, letting his hands fall. "I want to read."

He sighed. "Okay." As she sat down again, he took the seat opposite her, though he had no intention of picking up a book, which was something he so rarely did. "I wish Harry had been here for this conversation." At her look, he quickly added "The one with Victoire, I mean."

"Did you handle it any differently from how he would have?"

"I don't think so. But..." He shrugged. "It would have been easier with him here."

"You can't rely on Harry for everything."

"I don't!" Ron immediately felt upset with himself for getting so defensive so quickly. Even after all this time, Harry was still very much the leader, both inside and outside the Auror Department. But having Hermione speak to him like this was... too much.

"Besides," said Hermione, now looking back at her book, "Harry is doing important things tonight."

"He's at a party, Hermione." Ron watched her closely, noticing that her eyes weren't moving. She was simply staring at the page, not reading it. "You wish you were there too, don't you?"

She looked up at him, but didn't reply immediately. That was enough of an affirmative.

He sighed again. Of course she wished she were there. She did just as well in such scenes as Harry did. Unlike Ron.

"Ron..." Hermione began. She clearly wasn't quite sure of what to say, which was unusual for her.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not being a hero."

Ron..." She put the book down now. "Don't say that."

"Why not? I'm sorry for not being Harry, for not getting invited to parties like these. That's where you want to be. Ow!" He fell backwards in the chair as her jinx struck his face.

"Shut up! I hate it when you say that!" He looked up to see her glaring at him over the table.

Ron hated himself when he was like this, too. But he could never get over this. Hermione would have been happier with Harry. She would have had the life she wanted. She would have enjoyed all the privileges that came with Harry's fame, probably more than Ginny did. Ron and Ginny were raised in a very different sector of wizarding society, and had never been meant to deal with the sort of social circles that Harry and Hermione handled so well. Ginny handled it better than Ron did, since she was more assertive, but still, she wasn't a natural like Hemione was.

Had Ron known that, only a few moments before, Ginny had been thinking something very similar, he would not have been very surprised.

Ron knew that Harry thought of Hermione like a sister. Yet he was never sure of how his wife thought of his best friend. The constant insecurity resurfaced every so often, whenever he was sure he had caught her staring at him.

Her wand was aimed at him again. "You had better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, Weasley."

He didn't reply, simply watched as she stepped around the table, still pointing her wand at him. Soon her foot was right beside his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to stare at her long legs as she stood over him.

"I'm happy with you, Ron Weasley." Another jinx, this one striking him in the chest. "Very happy."

She sat down beside him, and her thigh was so close now that it became harder than ever not to stare.

"Yes, of course I would have liked to go to that party. But that's Harry's role, not mine. That's the way it's always been."

Ron didn't say anything. He wondered if she was deliberately avoiding saying it the way he had been thinking it.

"I'm going to Australia tomorrow."

He frowned at this. "Again?" It was less than a month since she'd last gone.

She nodded. "I need to."

"To get away."

"No!" She didn't look at him.

"What about Rose and Hugo?"

"They'll be fine with you."

He nodded, finally sitting up. "Same as always."

Her frown deepened, but still she didn't look at him.

"Okay." He got up, stepping around her and heading for the door. Then he turned back, briefly. "Come to bed soon."

"I will." She still didn't look at him. Sighing once more, he left the library, heading for the stairs. There was a reason these insecurities of his never went away. She would never simply put him at ease.

She was too honest for that.

* * *

Ginny knew the moment she found him. The amulet had been getting colder and colder, and finally it was clear who the cause was.

Pulling her wand out from where it had been carefully concealed inside her dress, she pointed it at him discretely, not attracting the attention of the surrounding guests. "Come with me." She felt his muscles tense as he became aware of her and of the wand she was holding against him.

She nodded in a direction, without actually knowing what was in that direction, and he silently moved towards where she had indicated. They moved through the crowd until they found themselves confronted with a staircase. She briefly wondered if anyone would notice if they went upstairs, but the guests were engrossed in their own conversations.

She followed him up the stairs and into a very plain room. Once inside, she quietly closed the door. "Who are you?"

"Ginny..."

The voice sounded extremely familiar, and she lowered her wand. It couldn't be.

"It's me. George."


	4. The Party, Part 3

**A/N: Happy New Year all! Here's hoping that I'm the only one on this site who came back from a party awake/sober enough to finish revising a fanfiction chapter. May everyone here have a happy, healthy 2013 with greater memories than they had in 2012, no matter how good 2012 was to them.**

**Now, after all our parties have ended, enjoy reading about the end of this party!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all original characters/background belong to J.K.R., my new characters and plots belong to me, and 2013 belongs to all of us.**

**Chapter 4: The Party, Part 3**

"Who is the elderly woman?" Viktor looked around at his comrades. He could tell from Olga's expression that she had been wondering the same thing. Smart woman.

"What elderly woman?" asked one of the other men.

"The one who is in the background the entire time, watching everything that happens."

The man shrugged. "Just a bystander."

"She is a witness, at least," said Olga.

Viktor turned to her. "Whose memory is this?"

Olga hesitated at this. "We don't actually know. The man who brought it to us said it was not his originally. It had been implanted in him by a stranger. He begged us to make him forget it."

"He said this under veritaserum?"

"Of course. Do you think me a fool?"

"Of course not. Did he describe the stranger?"

"He had no memory of her. Whoever she was, she was skilled with memory charms. All he remembered was her voice."

"And you listened to this voice yourself?"

"Yes. It sounded like a young woman. I will know it when I hear it."

"Of course you will." The new voice spoke in English, and all turned and looked across the table to a corner of the room that was in shadow. A figure seemed to form out of the shadow itself.

Viktor knew that Pius Thicknesse had once been under the influence of an imperius curse by Lord Voldemort, and he didn't doubt that during that time, Thicknesse had learned various forms of dark magic. Viktor himself had been put under an imperious curse once, though only briefly, and he knew what it was like to have such dark thoughts inside his mind.

Thicknesse's beard was as pointy and dark as ever, and his long hair flowed back into the shadow he had emerged from. He had lost his position as Minister of Magic after Voldemort's fall, even though he had been imperiused, and since then he had attempted a series of supposedly altruistic initiatives, the latest of which was participating in the new security organization here in Eastern Europe.

"What can you tell us, Mr. Thicknesse?" Viktor didn't like the man. There were too many mysteries about him.

"I can tell you nothing. That is why you will find out everything you can. All of you."

Viktor heard one of his comrades nearby mutter under his breath, "I miss Earl." Thicknesse now seemed keen to become de facto leader of the organization.

"Very well," Viktor replied. He looked at all of his companions. "But I want to know who that elderly woman is."

As the meeting broke and the mission began, another of Viktor's comrades copied the previous sentiment. "I wish Earl were still here."

"He has chosen his new life," Viktor replied.

"And now we have to deal with Thicknesse."

"For the time being."

* * *

Harry couldn't find the Headmistress anywhere. It seemed as though she were no longer at the party, but there were so many guests in this huge room that he couldn't be sure. And since he couldn't find Ginny anywhere, either, and was quite certain she hadn't left, he figured he just had to search a little bit more.

A head of straight, very-light-brown hair caught his attention, distracting him from his search. He knew that hair anywhere.

Coming up behind her, he reached out and tapped her bare shoulder, distracting her from her conversation.

She turned, and a smile crossed her face. "Harry!"

"Hello, Lisa. How are you?" They shared a hug, and Harry glanced over her shoulder to see who she had been talking to, but didn't recognize any of the faces of the women around her.

"I'm well, thank you. And you?"

"Just fine." He smiled back at her. Lisa Corner, formerly Lisa Turpin, had been in his year at Hogwarts, though he had never really noticed her at school. She had been small and awkward, a Ravenclaw bookworm with nothing extraordinary about her. When he encountered her two years afterwards, however, it had been an entirely different story.

"Is Ginny here? I haven't seen her."

"Yes, she's... somewhere," Harry replied, looking around for his wife once more.

Lisa laughed. "Michael is being just as elusive tonight. Come, there's someone you should meet." She took hold of his arm, pulling him among the group of women she had been chatting with. The woman directly across from her gazed at him with a pair of dark brown eyes that matched her hair. "This is our hostess, Marlene Black."

Harry held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Black. This is a lovely party."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. I'm very pleased to meet you as well."

Harry pulled himself back out of the conversation and turned to Lisa. "So how have you been? How's Laura?"

"I've been well. And Laura... well, she's bored. It's the summer."

Harry nodded understandingly. "Yeah, James is very bored as well. So is Albus."

"Well, whose house could possibly match up to Hogwarts in terms of... well, anything?"

Harry shrugged and laughed, then an idea occurred to him. "I'm sure James would love to see Laura over the summer. A vacation, perhaps, my family and yours. My niece and nephew could come along to keep Albus and Lily company."

His enthusiasm collapsed as Lisa shook her head, looking apologetic. "I'm afraid Michael has already made other plans. He's invited Marcus Black to come spend the remainder of the summer with him, and learn the trade."

"I see. Well, perhaps just you and Laura, then." But Lisa was already shaking her head again.

"You and I both know that wouldn't be fair, Harry."

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"But we'll be sure to have you and your family over for dinner one night in the next few weeks. Marcus is also in James and Laura's year, so they all know each other."

"Oh, brilliant." Harry looked around again for Ginny, eager to let her know. "Thanks."

"Quite welcome." She glanced back at the other women as they laughed at something.

"I'd better find Ginny," said Harry, not wanting to keep Lisa from her conversation for too long. "See you soon."

"You bet. Good seeing you." Lisa turned back to her companions, and Harry backed into the crowd.

Looking around once more, he spotted the Headmistress's escort, Mr. Strumthort, towering above those around him.

"Mr. Strumthort!" The man glanced his way and nodded. "Do you know where the Headmistress is?"

He shook his head. "But there is something you should know. I saw your wife go upstairs with a strange man." He had an apologetic look on his face as he said this.

Er... what? "Ginny?"

"Yes."

Harry moved towards the staircase. What in the world could she have gone upstairs for? Perhaps it was someone else who looked like her?

He quickly ascended the stairs, not bothering to worry about who might have noticed. There were several rooms with closed doors, but through the closest door he heard his wife's voice.

He knocked. "Ginny?"

"Harry?" came the reply from the other side. Moments later, she opened the door. "What are you doing up here?"

"I'm not exactly sure. What are you doing up here?" He could see a man he didn't recognize behind her.

"Hi, Harry," said the man. The voice sounded familiar.

"Who are you?"

"It's George," Ginny replied.

Harry stared at her. "George?"

"My brother."

Harry looked at the stranger. "George?"

George nodded. "My twin and I gave you the Marauder's Map in our fifth year at Hogwarts."

Harry relaxed at this, though he couldn't even begin to guess what George might be doing here in disguise. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I'd like to know, too," said another voice. Harry glanced over his shoulder to see a girl standing there.

This had to be the Blacks' daughter, as she looked like a younger version of the hostess, whom he had just met downstairs. "You must be Michaela."

She nodded. "And you're Harry Potter." She said this very matter-of-factly, without the tone of awe or excitement that Harry was accustomed to hearing from children. She came up beside him and ducked under his arm into the room, staring at George. "And what is George Weasley doing in my house?"

"Well, first of all, this is your parents' house," said George. "And as for what I'm doing here, I'm proving wrong your accusations this past May."

"This past May?" Harry frowned. What in the world was going on here?

Michaela looked up at Ginny. "Did you know your dear brother paid a visit to Hogwarts this past May? And dropped me off the roof of Ravenclaw Tower?"

"That was an accident. You went invisible!"

"You were holding me in the air! On a broom!"

"You had attacked my nephew!"

"He had attacked me!"

Harry and Ginny watched the volley back and forth, both at a complete loss for what all this was about. Had George really visited Hogwarts this past May?

"Alright, enough of this," said George. "Is Philip Black at this party?"

"I'm not telling," Michaela replied, crossing her arms.

"Who is Phillip Black?" Ginny asked, and both looked at her as though she were interrupting.

"Her uncle," George replied. "He used to work for me."

"They used to work together!" said Michaela.

"In my store. Anyway, we had a parting of the ways. He had some ideas that were... well, just too much."

Michaela rolled her eyes at this, and Harry frowned. "What do you mean?" What could be too much for George Weasley?

"Some real scary stuff. Stuff that couldn't be sold to the general population."

"Says you," said Michaela.

"I've been doing this for a while, Michaela. I think I know better than you do. Some of the stuff got out, and I had to quickly recall all of it. Quite an embarrassment that was. Then I kicked him out of the store. Next thing I know, my designs start disappearing."

"You mean his designs."

"They were mine, Michaela. I knew it was him, but since no trace of him nor any counterfeit products ever showed up, I just assumed he hadn't been able to reproduce anything on his own, and thought that was the end of it."

"How could he have? He had nothing to work with."

George nodded. "Good thing, too, with some of the ideas he had." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box with three gold Ws on it. "Do you recognize this, Michaela? It still has your fingerprints on it."

Michaela grimaced. "I sure do."

George turned to Harry, holding up the box. "This is one of the products I had to recall. Phillip designed it as a Halloween prank, but it was just too damn scary to be sold." He looked at the box. "Turns out at least one had been created without my knowledge. And of course, young Miss Black turns up with it at Hogwarts."

"Actually, I used it on the train."

"Against James," said George, looking at Harry and Ginny. Harry's eyes widened, and he looked at his wife.

She was standing very still, staring at her brother. "What?"

"It's not that serious, Mrs. Potter," said Michaela. Her voice had dropped significantly. "All it does is scare you."

"Quite a bit," said George.

"I knew it wouldn't harm him," said Michaela. She turned to Harry now. "Honestly, I wasn't trying to hurt your son."

She sounded sincere enough, given her age.

"Well, that's only the beginning of the story," said George. He looked at his sister. "Are you not going to drink that wine?"

Harry looked down at the full goblet of wine that his wife was holding. Was that the same wine from before?

"Um, no," Ginny replied, giving Harry a glance.

Harry understood the look. "Neither are you." Drawing his wand, he vanished the contents of the goblet. He still had to talk to the Headmistress, and until then, he didn't want anyone drinking the wine she had stopped them from drinking before.

"Well, that was a waste," said George. "Honestly, they really should learn to appreciate wine more in wizarding Britain. Don't try to sneak out, Michaela."

"I'm not," Michaela replied. She had taken several steps towards the door. She gestured towards it, and Harry saw Mrs. Black standing in the open doorway.

"Hello, all. I didn't realize some of the party had moved upstairs."

"Mom, we have an intruder," said Michaela. She pointed at George, who was still disguised. "That's George Weasley."

"Mr. Weasley?" The hostess fixed her gaze on him. "And what might you be doing here?"

George held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Marlene, but I need to talk to Phillip. Is he here?"

"Certainly. He's downstairs. But as you are not an invited guest at this party, and I can only imagine what you did to the guest you are impersonating right now, though I don't know who he is, I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave. Preferably without drawing any further attention to yourself."

"I didn't hurt him, I promise," said George. Nevertheless, he was clearly taking each of the hostess's words with respect, as he was backing towards the open window. He turned to Harry. "Harry, find Phillip Black and get the truth from him. These products need to stop circulating. And as for you," he added to Michaela, "just be careful. You're playing with fire." Turning, he aimed his wand through the window. "Accio nimbus. Marlene, this is a lovely party. You really did a great job." The broom arrived in the window, and George got on. "Ginny, see you soon." With that, he flew out.

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Mrs. Black spoke. "What has my brother-in-law done now?"

"He didn't do anything," said Michaela.

"Be quiet."

It wasn't said that harshly, but Michaela glared at her mother, then ducked past her out of the room. Harry heard her footsteps stomping down the stairs outside.

"She's going to warn him, no doubt. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but it looks like you will not be able to speak to Phillip tonight."

Harry had a feeling that if he didn't speak with him tonight, he wouldn't get another chance, since he had no idea where to find him. "Excuse me," he said to the hostess, then quickly followed Michaela down the stairs.

The party was somewhat less crowded than before, and Harry noticed that guests were beginning to file out through the entrance tent. He spotted Michaela weaving among the adults around her. She was heading towards the raised platform, on which her father was standing with a few others.

Great, another spectacle in the making.

Michaela stepped up onto the platform, and her father looked at her. She greeted him quickly, then looked back at Harry. Mr. Black looked towards a corner of the room, but Michaela didn't move.

Just as Harry reached the platform, she set off again.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?" asked Mr. Black. His companions turned, and Harry saw that the Minister was there, having previously been turned away from him.

"No, Sir. How do you do, Minister?"

"Fine, Mr. Potter. Just fine."

Michaela was walking quickly across the platform in the direction her father had indicated, and Harry, after a moment's hesitation, stepped up and followed her. If he had kept hidden in the crowd and walked around the platform, he would never have made it in time. Feeling the eyes on his back, he crossed the platform and stepped off near the indicated corner. Michaela was talking to a man on the edge of the crowd.

He was skinny, with his face framed by dark hair and a beard. He bore none of the majesty that his brother did, and instead looked rather downtrodden.

"Mr. Potter," he said as Harry approached, "what George Weasley told you is a lie."

"It's your word against his," Harry replied. He still had his wand out, and now he semi-consciously pointed it at the man.

"Mr. Potter." Peter Black had followed him, and was now standing right behind him. "I would appreciate knowing what is going on here." Mr. Black's voice was loud, and several nearby guests turned to see what was going on.

Michaela stepped between Harry and her uncle, her own wand now drawn. "You won't hurt him." Apparently, she had hidden her wand in her dress, just as Ginny had done. Harry would have been impressed, but for the fact that the wand was now pointed at him.

"My dear," said the Minister, his voice abnormally soft and gentle, "I'm afraid you're not allowed to do magic outside of school. We have something called the Trace, you see."

"You're standing right here, Minister," said Mr. Black. "I hardly think she could be expelled under the circumstances. Now, Mr. Potter, will you please tell me what is going on?"

"I'm not exactly sure, Mr. Black," Harry replied. "That's what your brother was just about to tell me."

The man grimaced. "I'm sorry, brother, but I'm afraid I have to make an early exit. Lovely party, though. See you, my dear girl." Stepping away from Michaela, he disapparated.

Harry frowned, turning to Mr. Black. "Why does your brother talk like he's British?"

"I have a better question, Mr. Potter. What was that about?"

Harry glanced back and forth between Mr. Black and the Minister. "Something for the Auror Department to handle. Not to worry."

Mr. Black glanced at the Minister, who shrugged. "Don't worry, Peter. I'm sure nothing is going to happen that will reflect poorly on you or your family." He turned to Harry. "At the very least, I am certain the Auror department will take the greatest care to handle everything to do with this matter with the utmost discretion."

It was only then that Harry noticed that all the nearby guests had turned away, as though nothing were going on here for them to see. Looking around, he saw Mr. Marteus watching them intently.

"Certainly, Minister," he said, backing away. With a parting nod, he turned back into the crowd.

The crowd continued to thin out as more people left. Harry felt it was time he should leave as well. He found Ginny standing near the staircase, unable to find him. Taking hold of her hand, he nodded towards the exit.

On the way out, they encountered Sebastian Zarin once more. "Mr. Potter, you left your goblet of wine at the table."

"No, thank you," said Harry, waving his wand and vanishing the contents of the goblet. Zarin stared at where the wine had been. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Zarin."

Outside, he at last found the Headmistress, who was also leaving with Mr. Strumthort. He waved her over.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"What was it that you were saying before, about an ability the Zarins have?"

The Headmistress looked around and lowered her voice. "Poison, Mr. Potter. They secrete poison from their fingers. And it leaves no trace. Also, they're immune to veritaserum."

Harry stared at her. "Well, that's new." Apparently he hadn't seen it all just yet. Good thing he vanished the contents of both goblets.

"Be careful, Mr. Potter. I dare say you still have enemies." With that, she returned to Mr. Strumthort. They each transformed into their animagus forms, and the bird carried the cat back into the air and out of sight.

Harry briefly entertained the idea of sticking around and confronting Zarin, but that would only serve to create even more of a spectacle. He had no evidence to hold against him, and if Zarin was indeed immune to veritaserum, that evidence was very necessary. "How do you find evidence of poison that leaves no trace?"

Ginny shook her head, still holding on to his hand. The Aurors had their work cut out for them. Tomorrow was going to be a very interesting day.

"Mr. Potter, are you leaving?" It was the Minister, flanked once more by his undersecretaries.

"Yes," Harry replied. "It's getting late, and it's already been quite an eventful night."

"Aren't they all, Mr. Potter? Very well, but I remind you that Mr. Black's brother lives well beyond our jurisdiction. Any problem involving him is not our problem."

Ginny spoke up. "With all due respect, Minister, it clearly involves my brother as well, and Harry will investigate it."

"Your brother also lives beyond our jurisdiction, Mrs. Potter. I have no say in the matter, and neither does the Auror Department. There are other matters I'd rather you look into. Not that I can stop you, of course, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, not even bothering to wonder about what mundane matters the Minister might want to use the Auror Department, or more importantly Harry's name, for again.

"Also," said the Minister, glancing at Ginny, "congratulations." He winked, then put his arms around his confused-looking undersecretaries and disapparated with a loud crack.

Harry looked at his wife. "Congratulations for what?"

"I have no idea." She turned to him, squeezing his hand. "Let's go."

He watched her as she summoned their brooms, noticing once more the dress she was wearing. It was still his birthday.

"Yeah, let's go. I have a dress to re-destroy."

* * *

Marcus was still on the balcony with Sarah. They were sitting down now against the railing, and had been quietly discussing Hogwarts as the crowd thinned around them.

Michael Corner appeared. "Ah, there you are, my boy. Er, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Marcus's eyes widened, and he shook his head. He didn't know whether to feel insulted or not as Sarah started giggling at the question.

"Alright. Ready to go?"

"Sure." Marcus got up and helped Sarah to her feet. "See you in a month. Take care of my sister."

She laughed. "No worries. Bye."

He followed Mr. Corner inside, where they found Mr. Corner's wife, a remarkably beautiful woman, and then made their way towards the platform. Marcus's parents, who were now both standing up there, turned towards them as they approached.

"Heading out, Michael?"

Mr. Corner nodded. "To use one of your expressions, Peter, it's time to hit the hay." The expression sounded so strange with Mr. Corner's accent that Marcus nearly laughed out loud. That would not have gone over very well at all.

"Alright. Marcus, pay close attention to everything he teaches you. Good luck."

"Thanks, Dad."

Marcus's mother stepped off the platform and hugged him, and Marcus immediately felt self-conscious among the remaining guests. "You be good, now."

"I will, Mom," he replied quietly, stepping away from her.

His mother and Mrs. Corner exchanged goodbyes, while Marcus sought out his twin. Finding her, he made his way over.

"Have fun being business-y."

He grimaced. "Thanks. Have fun at Sarah's."

"I will." She paused. "When was the last time we were apart for a month?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember."

She stepped forward and hugged him. "Bye."

Outside, Mr. Corner placed one arm around his wife and the other around Marcus, and disapparated.

Marcus had never traveled by this method before, and it was a very strange sensation, like being sucked through a tube. As he landed beside Mr. Corner, he wobbled slightly, and Mr. Corner's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Marcus nodded. They were standing before a large house on a dimly-lit street. There were no lights on inside the house, and in the darkness, Marcus could make out very little about it. He vaguely remembered details from seven months before, when his family had been invited to dine here.

"Laura's already gone to bed," Mr. Corner noted, looking up at one of the dark windows. Marcus's eyes widened. He had completely forgotten about Laura Corner, or at least that Mr. Corner was her father.

They entered the house, and Marcus looked around, recalling more details.

"I'm afraid you might have to sleep down here tonight," said Mr. Corner. "We don't quite have a room prepared for you yet."

"Nonsense," said Mrs. Corner, "we do have a room prepared. Right this way, Marcus." She led the way up the stairs, and Mr. Corner followed behind.

The room he was to be staying in was about mid-way down a long hallway, opposite another door.

Mr. Corner drew his wand and pointed it at the boy. "If I had my way," he whispered, "you wouldn't be staying nearly so close to Laura. But I trust you, and you know you're not here for that."

Mrs. Corner pushed her husband's wand down. "If you need anything, Marcus, we're right down the hall."

"Thank you." He stepped into the room and looked around. The door shut behind him, and the footsteps receded, until another door could be heard closing at the end of the hall.

He doubted Laura would be happy to see him. He wondered if she even knew that he was coming.

Tomorrow was indeed going to be an interesting day.


	5. Debriefing

**A/N: Hey all. Once again, a long delay that merits an apology. Things are just very busy right now. I definitely intend to pick up the pace at some point, but I really don't know when that will be.**

**What do the music videos for Erreway's "Amor de Engano" and Michael Buble's "I Just Haven't Met You Yet" have in common? The love interest in each video is the same actress, Luisana Lopilato (a former member of Erreway and now Buble's wife), and my visual modeling of both Laura and Lisa Corner are based on her. Laura is modeled on Luisana's appearance in the Erreway video, and Lisa is modeled on her appearance in the Buble video.**

**Now, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: What you recognize belongs to J.K.R., and one noted detail from the Brothers Grimm (or Walt Disney). Everything you don't recognize is mine.**

**C****hapter 5: Debriefing**

"But why did Mum go back to Australia so soon? She said she wasn't going to go back until after I went back to school!"

Albus watched the exchange between his cousin and uncle. He too was very surprised by Aunt Hermione's quick departure. But Rose was quite upset about it. Hugo also looked fairly dejected.

"I dunno, Rosie. I can't explain it." Uncle Ron was leaning against the kitchen counter, not looking at either of his children. He looked tired, and his hair was a mess.

"This is your fault, isn't it?" said Rose. Albus had never heard this tone from her before. Sure, she had yelled at him, multiple times, but this tone she was using now, quiet and controlled and angry, was something he had never heard from her, and it was quite scary.

"What? Why do you think—"

"You made her angry. That's why she left. You made her angry again."

"No, Rosie, it's not my—" But his daughter interrupted him again, this time by turning and storming out of the kitchen, knocking over a chair as she passed. Hugo ran out as well.

Albus and Lily followed their cousins as they ran upstairs. Albus pursued Rose to her room, where she rounded on him when he blocked the door from slamming in his face.

"Get out!"

"Rose, what's—"

"I said get out!" Albus backed out of the room, and this time allowed the door to slam in his face. Another door slammed behind him, and he turned to find that his sister had been kicked out of Hugo's room in similar fashion.

* * *

"This has to be a joke!" Marcus jerked awake as the words were screamed down the hall. It took him a moment to recall where he was, as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings in the room. The door was open, and a very unhappy Laura Corner was standing in the doorway. "Tell me this is a joke!"

"It's not a joke." The voice of Laura's mother could be heard from down the hall. "Your father invited him to spend a few weeks here. Just a few weeks."

"_Just_ a few weeks? That's the whole rest of the summer!"

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Marcus looked at her. It was strange to see her without all the makeup and other stuff that she wore at school. Her hair was a mess, and her face looked darker than he remembered, though that was probably a combination of it being summer and her present anger. Her eyes looked slightly smaller, but the blue in them stood out more. Or that could also have been the anger, as she was giving him a glare that could have killed a basilisk.

"Good morning." His own voice sounded strangely quiet after her yelling.

"Don't talk to me," she snapped, shutting the door. The screaming went on outside in the hall, and Marcus took the opportunity to get up and change. He had slept in an old t-shirt, which, along with several of his other belongings, had appeared at the Corners' house by magic shortly after their arrival the previous night.

The room had its own bathroom, which would be a very good thing. He stepped inside and looked in the mirror. What a marvelous state Laura had seen him in.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she hardly noticed what you look like, angry as she is that you are here." Marcus froze, and quickly looked around for the source of the voice. "Up here." He looked back into the mirror and upwards. Inside the reflection was another face, light gray and quite flattened. There was no actual such face in the room, only inside the mirror.

"What are you?"

"Me? Why, I'm a mirror on a wall, of course."

"Yes, I can see that, but mirrors don't usually talk."

"No, only the smartest of us do. And the most handsome."

"Um... okay."

"Little Laura used to be fascinated by fairy tales, you see, Wizard and Muggle fairy-tales alike. When she found out about talking mirrors, she had to have one, as rare as we are."

Marcus had heard of Snow White before, one of several Muggle fairy-tales that happened to get certain aspects of magic quite confused. He certainly hadn't known, however, that talking mirrors actually existed. "If you belong to Laura, why aren't you in her room?"

The thin lips on the face curled into a sad frown. "She got tired of me. Or annoyed, one of the two. She wanted me to stop talking to her, thought I was lying whenever I told her how pretty she looked. And she is truly beautiful, perhaps truly the fairest—" Marcus was skeptical, and the mirror fell silent for a moment, looking at him. "Yes, she is."

Oh boy. "Can you read my thoughts?"

"Not precisely. I can only read your face, but what you are thinking is written quite clearly in your expression. Before, for instance, I could tell you were concerned about how you looked, and of course I could hear her screaming outside the room, so I assumed that she is the reason you were concerned, beautiful as she is."

"She is not... never mind." What was the point of arguing with a mirror? Plus, there was another matter to deal with. "Um... can you... not look for a moment?"

"Oh, you have to use the toilet? Certainly, don't mind me." The face spun around, so that now Marcus was looking at the featureless back of a head.

Marcus hesitated, doing his best to shrug off the self-consciousness.

After he was finished with routine activities and dressed and ready for the day, he tried asking the mirror about the family, and anything he should know before he stepped outside and faced Laura. The mirror, however, could not tell him much more than the most basic stuff, as it was physically unable to reveal the private thoughts and mutterings of each of its users to each other. That was a good thing, he decided, for the sake of his own privacy as well.

Just as he opened the door to the room, the door across the hall slammed shut. Apparently, he wouldn't be facing Laura just yet. Relieved, he walked down the hall to the stairs and descended. Mrs. Corner was in the kitchen, preparing food.

"Good morning, Marcus. How did you sleep?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Corner. I slept very well, thanks."

"Please, call me Lisa."

"Okay."

"And how did you find the room? Everything alright?"

"Yes, certainly. That's an... interesting mirror."

Mrs. Corner looked at him, not realizing what he was talking about at first, then her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry, I completely forgot. I can move it someplace else."

"No, it's... it's okay, actually. I don't mind it." Self-conscious as he had been feeling earlier, Marcus now didn't actually mind the mirror being there. Having grown up with a twin, he was used to always having someone to talk to privately. Perhaps having the mirror here would be a good thing, especially if Laura didn't warm up to him.

"Alright. But when it starts to bother you, you be sure to let me know. How do you like your eggs, by the way?"

Still a bit sleepy, Marcus was caught off guard by the change of topic. He had barely given a thought to his stomach yet, though now he actually was quite hungry. "Scrambled, please."

"Scrambled?" She looked at him once more. "You mean the Muggle way? Very well." She waved her wand, and a set of utensils popped out of a nearby drawer and began scrambling the eggs in the pan. "They certainly do like their Muggle foods in America, don't they?"

Marcus had never actually thought of scrambled eggs as a Muggle food. It was quite common among witches and wizards in America, just as much as among Muggles.

He sat down at the table, looking around. The room was pale-blue, a fairly small kitchen huddled around the white table in the center, which had four chairs. He wondered if Laura had already eaten, and Mr. Corner as well.

"Um, where is Mr. Corner?" That was the reason he was there in the first place.

"He had to rush in to the office for a bit this morning. Some sort of issue. I don't expect he'll be gone long." She placed the prepared eggs on a plate in front of him, then turned for the door. "I hope you don't mind, I have to go take a shower. When you finish, if you want, you're welcome to use the pool out back, though it's still a bit cool out this morning. Just make yourself at home."

She disappeared up the stairs, and Marcus tried the eggs. They weren't quite as good as he was used to, but they were certainly tolerable.

He wondered if Laura would come downstairs while he was eating, but as he ate, she made no appearance. When he finished, he placed the empty plate in the sink, then took a walk around the house.

The rooms were large and well-lit and colorful, and there was a multitude of pictures scattered everywhere. On the wall above the couch in the living room, there was a large picture of ten teenagers in what Marcus immediately recognized as the Ravenclaw Common Room at Hogwarts, which he was by now quite familiar with. Looking closely at the picture, he spotted both Mr. and Mrs. Corner.

"That was taken during our sixth year at Hogwarts." Marcus spun around. He hadn't heard Mr. Corner come in. "Gosh, I miss that place."

"Good morning, Mr. Corner," said Marcus in a rush. "I didn't..."

Mr. Corner held up his hands. "It's alright, Marcus. This is your home, too, for a few weeks." He asked the same questions that Mrs. Corner had, minus the one about the eggs, and Marcus gave the same answers. Then he said, "Alright, well, you know why you're here. Are you ready to start learning the trade?"

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

"Albus, you might want to wake your brother. Your Mum will be here soon." Ron stalked back and forth through his house, doing his best to rally his nephews and niece. Neither of his own children had yet emerged from their rooms.

Sure enough, as soon as he said this, there was a knock on the door. He opened it and let his sister in. "How are you, Ginny?"

"Fine. You?"

He sighed. No point in holding back from her. "Been better. Hermione's gone back to Australia again."

"So soon? Why?"

"Because of me."

She frowned. "What did you do this time?"

He shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "Just the same old stuff. I couldn't... I just couldn't control it."

"Ron..." She shook her head.

"She was gone when I woke up this morning. Didn't even bother to say goodbye."

Lily came bouncing down the stairs. "Hi, Mum!"

"Hello, dear. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded.

"And you're ready to go?"

She nodded again. "As soon as Albus finishes getting James out of bed, we can go."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

* * *

A loud crack sounded, and Sarah and Michaela appeared out of thin air, on either side of a small house-elf.

"Thank you, Perry," said Sarah. The house-elf bowed low, then disapparated with another loud crack.

"That was... wild," said Michaela.

"What was?"

"That. What we just did."

"You had never apparated before?"

"No."

"Finally!" They both turned, as a third girl approached them from the house.

"Carla!" They ran forward, embracing their friend. "What time did you get here?" Sarah asked her.

"Nearly an hour ago."

Michaela looked at Sarah. "You didn't tell me she would be here."

"She didn't tell me you would be here, either," said Carla. "I found out from Sam when I got here."

Sam? Michaela had nearly forgotten about Sam Anderson, Sarah's older brother. She hoped he had nearly forgotten about her as well.

Sarah shrugged. "I wanted to surprise you both."

"Well done."

"Girls!" All three turned and looked as Sam approached them. He was looking right at Michaela, and she could tell from his expression that he had not in fact nearly forgotten about her. "Michaela, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. You?"

"Just fine. Welcome to our house." He sounded way too enthusiastic.

"Thanks."

* * *

"Alright there, Ron?" Harry watched his best friend as he entered the Auror Department.

Ron glanced at him. "Not so much, no."

"Hermione told me she was going back to Australia. Said you were being a git again."

"She stopped by your place?"

"No, sent me an owl. I just got it."

"Oh."

"I should punch you, probably, but I'm pretty used to this kind of thing by now." As a matter of fact, he was quite frustrated with Ron, and probably should have punched him anyway, but not at work.

"Thanks, Harry."

A secretary approached them. "Kingsley wants everyone in his office."

Ron nodded. "That's good. I've got something I need to brief him on."

Harry glanced at him. "So do I. A couple things, actually."

The secretary grimaced, then muttered, "It's going to be a busy day," seemingly to herself. She turned to go back to her desk, then quickly turned back to Harry. "Oh, and congratulations." She winked at him, then returned to her desk.

Ron looked at him. "Congratulations for what?"

Harry shrugged, remembering the Minister congratulating Ginny in similar fashion the previous night. "I have no idea."

The door to Kingsley's office was open, and several other aurors were already gathered inside. They all glanced at him as he entered, and greeted him and Ron in various fashions.

Kingsley got up from behind his desk. "Welcome, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley." He stepped forward and held out his hand to shake Harry's. "And I understand a congratulations is in order."

Harry stared at him, then shook the offered hand. "Er, thank you."

Kinglsey then shut the door and returned to his desk. "Now then, we have some new information concerning Mr. Pius Thicknesse. You all remember him, no doubt." There were various confirmations from around the room. "He is now working with the European Commission of Security that they are trying to build in Eastern Europe. And I emphasize the word _trying_."

Harry had heard about this. The Eastern European countries, which were almost continuously left out of various initiatives among the magical folk of Europe, had tried starting their own European security organization. The organization had several issues, however, and the Auror Department had written it off as just another failed attempt at international magical cooperation in that half of the continent.

"Well," said one of the other aurors, "that just means that they have even less chance of succeeding now."

Kingsley looked at him. It was well known that, even though Mr. Thicknesse had been under an imperius curse during the Second War, Kingsley didn't trust him any further than he could throw him, and neither did Harry. "It could also mean danger, Mr. Wicksedge." He looked around the room. "The former de facto leader of the organization, a Mr. Strumthort, is apparently no longer there."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Earl Strumthort?"

"You know him?"

"I met him last night."

"He was at the Black Party?"

"Yes." Harry didn't say more, for the sake of Headmistress McGonagall's privacy.

"I see." Kingsley was staring at him, and knew quite clearly that Harry wasn't telling him something. But that would be a conversation for later. "Well, without him, the organization is not only weaker, it's also more vulnerable to influence from men like Mr. Thicknesse. Furthermore, there's been a series of attacks recently around Scandinavia, involving rather complex magic. We're going to be keeping an eye on them, and if they're in over their heads, which I'm pretty sure they are, we're going to have to help them."

"Why? It's not our problem."

Ron glared at the man who had spoken. "Are you serious, mate? We're going to help them because we can."

"Precisely," said Kingsley. "Now, Harry, I'd like to speak with you about that party. The rest of you may go."

The aurors filed out of the office, but Ron didn't move. Kingsley and Harry both looked at him.

"Kingsley, I need to speak with you about something. Harry, you should hear this too."

"Well, go ahead, Mr. Weasley."

"My niece—or our niece, rather—visited me last night. She's determined to help with the search for Teddy Lupin."

Harry frowned. "Victoire?"

"Yes. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"Well," said Kingsley, "we can't say we didn't see this coming. They were dating, weren't they?"

"They did date for a while, yes." Harry didn't know that Kingsley had known about Teddy and Victoire, but Kingsley knew many things.

"Well," said Kingsley, stepping behind his desk and sitting down, "looking for a werewolf is dangerous business for someone untrained. Though if he recognizes her as someone close to him, that's an advantage for us."

Ron was fidgeting. "There's more, Sir."

"What is it, Mr. Weasley?"

"Apparently two of her friends promised to help her. She's bringing them here tomorrow."

"Why is she bringing them here?"

"Because I told her to."

Harry stared at him. He didn't need to look at Kingsley to know the look that was on his face.

Kingsley spoke softly and slowly, his voice heavily controlled. "Have you met with them yourself?"

"No, Sir."

"So you have no idea whether they are trustworthy or not."

"She is certain they are. And she's a good judge of character."

"She's eighteen, Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, Sir."

"That wasn't a question."

Ron said nothing.

Much as he hated to admit it to himself, Harry wasn't overly surprised that Ron had thought this through so poorly.

"What are their names?"

"Theo Leonus and Kevin Eigin."

Kingsley remained silent for a moment. "Well, Mr. Weasley, you've won yourself a day of research. Find out everything you can about those two. I'll decide whether to meet with them. But your niece may come in tomorrow."

Ron nodded. "Thank you."

"Go."

Ron nodded again and hurried out of the office.

"Shut the door, Harry." Harry complied. "You recognize either of those names? Leonus or Eigin?"

"The name Eigin sounds familiar, Sir, but I can't place it."

"You wouldn't. That was long before your time." He opened a drawer of his desk, then shut it again, knowing the old file wouldn't still be in there. "Eigin is not a common name, not at all. I'll bet anything that boy is related to old Travis Eigin, who we've still got in Azkaban. He was an herbologist, created some plant products that messed with people's minds. Exactly the kind of thing we don't want around the Ministry."

"I see." Ron had really dropped the ball.

"The jury's still out on whether to allow him in tomorrow. But if I do allow him in, we're going to watch him closely at all times."

"Yes, Sir."

"Theo Leonus, however, was the Head Boy last year, and if the Headmistress trusted him enough for that post, we can too. Plus, I know his family, they're very decent people."

"Okay."

"Now then, let's get past Mr. Weasley's blunders. You know I'm going to ask you what you didn't say before about Mr. Strumthort, but that can wait until later. First, did you learn anything else at the party?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry immediately told him about the Zarins, and about what the Headmistress had said.

When he was done, Kingsley looked furious. "That..." He couldn't find words vile enough for what he was thinking about Mr. Marteus. "I'm going to kill him. And we'll need to keep an eye on the rest of the Zarin family. This Mr. Zarin seems like quite the character."

Harry nodded. "I don't know if the wine was actually poisoned, Sir, but the Headmistress wasn't taking any chances, and I don't blame her at all." It occurred to him now that he had forgotten to thank the Headmistress for possibly saving his and Ginny's lives, shocked as he had been by the revelation.

"It's going to be very hard to find something against him if he does kill."

"I know, Sir."

"Find out where he lives. I want him watched at all times."

"Will do."

"And his son is at Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes, Sir, he's in Albus's year."

"Well, the Headmistress knows to keep an eye on him, so I doubt anything will happen there. I'm wondering now, though, since the family is immune to veritaserum, whether the professor truly committed the murder."

"So am I, Sir, but of course the uncle would defend the nephew against anything."

Kingsley nodded. "Well, I trust the Headmistress's judgment. I'm sure she's already got measures in place for the boy. Now, dare I ask, was there anything else?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Great. What?"

"There seems to be a... history... between Peter Black's brother and my brother-in-law, George."

"What sort of history?"

"Some sort of business conflict. Stolen designs and whatnot, and some questionable products."

"Questionable as in dangerous?"

"Potentially." Come to think of it, perhaps Harry could ask James about the products, since apparently Michaela Black had used them against him.

Kingsley sighed. "Alright. That's a problem in American jurisdiction, but since George is your brother-in-law, I know you want to look into it. Go ahead, but don't get us in trouble with the Board of Magi."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I noticed, Sir. Other than that, it was just a whole lot of people."

"Alright. Now then, tell me about Mr. Strumthort."

Harry hesitated. "Well, Sir, it's not really actually about him. I didn't really talk to him that much, but..."

"Harry, what is it that you didn't tell me before?"

"I think he's seeing the Headmistress."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "Oh. Okay. Well, now I'm sorry I asked." He quickly shook it from his mind. "Anyway, get a move on with these new items. Is Teddy Lupin still your priority?"

"I can handle more than one at once, Sir. Teddy and George are the closest to home.

"Alright, you're on those two then. I'm guessing Mr. Weasley will want both as well, once he cleans up this mess he's made. And Harry, speak to him."

Harry nodded. "I will, Sir."

"Alright. Go."

Harry left the office and made straight for Ron's. The door was open, and Ron was sitting behind his desk, looking flustered.

"Ron."

Ron looked up at him. "What am I going to do with Rose and Hugo?"

Harry wasn't expecting this question. He entered the office and shut the door. "It's the same as always, isn't it?"

"I've got quite a bit to deal with at the moment, in case you didn't notice."

Harry stared at him. He hadn't even told him about George yet.

"I should get a house-elf."

"Hermione would kill you for saying that. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Besides, I'm sure your parents will be happy to take care of Rose and Hugo when you need them to. And you've got plenty of siblings that can help as well. Now, Ron, get a grip on yourself."

"Yeah, alright."

Harry sighed, praying that Hermione wouldn't be gone long.

* * *

"I want to learn quidditch," said Michaela. Sarah and Carla exchanged a glance. They had both been expecting this.

"Sure. We'll teach you."

"Any position in particular?"

Michaela looked at each of them in turn. "Well, you're both seekers..."

Sarah had been afraid she would say that. She didn't want this to wind up turning into just another phase of Michaela's rivalry with James. Plus, even if Michaela did turn out to be very good at the position, there wasn't a chance Nathan Holdwin would pick her over a more experienced player who was also very good and had the same number of years left to contribute.

"But I think I might try chaser. I don't think I could just sit around waiting for the snitch to appear like that."

Sarah let out an audible sigh of relief, and Carla gave her a knowing smile. "Alright. Perfect."

"Can we start now?"

Carla laughed. "You're so eager."

"Yes!"

"Alright. Sarah, can we borrow your brother's broom?"

"I'm sure we can. Let's go."

* * *

"Ginny?" Harry entered the house, nearly tripping over Lily's cat in the process.

Her voice came from the living room. "We're in here, Harry." He entered the room to find his family gathered together. They all looked up as he entered. "Did you see this?" She held up a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"No."

She held out the paper for him to look at. There, in big, black letters, was the reason he and Ginny were randomly receiving such cryptic congratulations.

_**THE BOY-WHO-REPRODUCES**_

_You heard it here first! It seems that Harry and Ginny Potter are expecting again, despite continuing suspicions of his ongoing affair with his supposed best friend's wife. The Minister himself was fortunate enough to be the first discoverer of Potter's latest secret, realizing the signs during a conversation with Mrs. Potter at a party last night. See and hear his report on the matter on page 6._

As soon as Harry opened to page 6, the Minister of Magic's voice emerged from the newspaper.

"It was really quite obvious. She was holding a full goblet of wine, not drinking it, and could not give a straight answer as to why. She ducked away as soon as I asked her. There's only one reason so secretive as to why a woman would not be drinking such delicious wine."

Harry couldn't help but scoff at this last bit.

"It wasn't even him that asked me," said Ginny. "It was Mr. Black, and he just asked me if I didn't like the wine. I didn't have any excuse. Mr. Zarin was right there."

As she was speaking, green flames erupted in the fireplace, and Ron's head appeared. "Harry..."

"It's not true, Ron," said Ginny.

"Oh, alright. Well, good seeing you again." The green flames disappeared, but only for a moment.

Bill was next, followed by Percy, and then Ginny's mother popped her head in. "Ginny Weasley Potter! Why didn't you tell me—"

"Mum, it's not true," Ginny interjected loudly.

The elder Molly Weasley fell silent. "Oh... well... alright. Um, so how are things?"

"Just fine, Mum. You're probably blocking the next person who wants to floo in."

"Oh, right. Well, send me an owl. Hello, dearies," she added to her grandchildren. "See you all again soon." With that, she disappeared, and the fireplace fell quiet for the moment.

Harry sighed. Since the Minister himself was responsible for this gaffe, a lot of people were going to believe it.

"I wish it were true," said Lily dejectedly. On more than one occasion, she had expressed a desire for a sister.

"Sorry, dear, but that's not going to happen." He sat on the couch next to her, then looked up at his wife. "This one's going to go on for a while."

"Yeah, I know." The fireplace erupted again. "It's not true, Charlie!"


End file.
